


where my sky meets your horizon

by lilithiumwords



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fairy Tale Elements, Fluff, Ice Skating, M/M, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:41:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22322752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithiumwords/pseuds/lilithiumwords
Summary: Yuuri moves to a tiny village far in the north, where he discovers the hidden truth of the world. But he must never go in the forest, they tell him.After all, those who go into the woods never come back the same, if they do at all.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 25
Kudos: 253
Collections: Chihohohoko 2020: Victor’s 30th birthday exchange





	where my sky meets your horizon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [astudyinrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astudyinrose/gifts).



> This is for Amanda, for Chihohohoko 2019-2020! I tried for fluff and got mysterious ice skating in the woods, so... whoopsie. I hope you enjoy!

Far to the north of the world, where the bitter cold drives out all but the most stalwart of souls, a forest lives and thrives. Beyond its boundaries, or perhaps on the edge of them, a few villages take up space here and there, unwitting guards against the world. Yet where the trees grow so thick that even woodland paths struggle to reach each other, not even the villagers dare to wander.

They say that an evil King once ruled those woods, until a group of heroes sealed him away and bound him to the empty grounds. They say that the cold froze his heart, and to this day, he haunts the woods, searching for innocents to take back to his lair and drain them of their life force. They say that the Council took over these lands and made them great again, driving the evil away.

Yet the villagers of Miratok never discuss these legends. They merely know not to go into the forest, from the elders to the tiny children. Sometimes youths dare each other to explore the shadows, but those urges pass as the years do.

After all, those who go into the woods never come back the same, if they do at all.

~*~

Yuuri, who grew up in a tiny seaside town with hot springs and fishing as the main attractions, has never been able to explain what made him leave his parents' business and travel north. Perhaps it was the historian in him, interested in the ancient knowledge that the old fortresses and libraries of the northern cities held. Perhaps it was something more mysterious in nature; but that is what others would say, not Yuuri.

He thinks it might just be fate; but that comes later. 

He just knows that the village of Miratok, the northernmost settlement in the whole country, held secrets he had to uncover.

So Yuuri moves north and takes his dog Vicchan with him. The locals give him odd looks but accept him easily enough, not minding his enthusiasm for history. They give Yuuri a position at the local library, where he could read books to his heart's content.

Life settles, and Yuuri studies.

Miratok is a small village, holding barely more than a hundred people, located just a few miles east of an old fortress. No Council lord ruled over the fortress, abandoned as it had been hundreds of years ago, but the settlement persisted, filled with families that had taken care of these lands for generations. Occasionally a newcomer like Yuuri would join the small population, expanding the gene pool and bringing new blood to the village. Yet it never truly grew bigger, nor did it shrink. It merely continued to exist, surrounded by snow and darkened trees.

Time passes slowly. The library uncovers little, only telling the same history that the Council insists is true, but the fortress tells a different story. The tapestries and ancient books tell of a King that ruled these lands, with fairness and justice, his benevolence only exceeded by his grace. Yet he was forced to retreat by greedy invaders from the south, who took his home and created a council to rule in his stead.

Yuuri suspects them to be the same Council that rules over the whole country now. He dares not say so, though; the Council rules with an absolute fist, made of the same families for the past several hundred years. The years have been long and bloody beneath their rule, with few speaking out against them, for fear of being silenced.

Yuuri left his town to avoid that silence. He just wants to _know._

Yet as Yuuri studies, his days ease into a haze of reading books, taking Vicchan on walks, and going camping in the fortress to study its ancient lore. In some ways, the work is boring, but Yuuri refuses to return to his hometown and admit defeat. The locals think him crazy for going near the old fortress, some muttering about it being haunted, but they never stop him. Yuuri never tells them of his discoveries, either.

They do stop him when he tries to go into the woods, though.

~*~

"You won't come back if you go in there, boy."

The words halt Yuuri in his tracks. He turns slowly on his heel, blinking at the old man standing behind him. The interloper has green eyes and a scowl on his face, his hair pale beneath his flat grey cap. He knew the man as one of the elders on the local council, someone who came into the library occasionally to read newspapers, but no one he would consider a friend. Vicchan takes a few more steps, realizes that Yuuri has stopped, and returns to sit at his heel, peering up at the old man in adorable confusion.

"I'm sorry?" Yuuri says, blinking rapidly. Did the old man just threaten him?

The old man sighs deeply, nodding past Yuuri at the forest. Yuuri follows his gaze to the dark trees, seeing nothing wrong with them. He noticed a little path leading into the forest the other day, and he thought it would be a great walk for him and Vicchan. He has never explored the forest before, even though he has lived here in Miratok for almost six months.

"The woods, boy. Don't go in that forest. If you're needing a distraction for your dog, then the fields will do just as well. The woods don't take kindly to strangers from afar."

Apparently not a great walk after all. Yuuri lifts his chin, gripping Vicchan's leash a little more tightly. He's always been _the stranger_ here, ever since he moved into his little house at the end of the road, and it grates that no one has accepted him yet. "I'll take my chances. I'm just a _stranger_ after all," he replies, unable to stop the sarcasm, and turns away to continue his path. 

Yet the old man is faster than Yuuri expected. He ducks around Yuuri and stands in his path, squaring his shoulders and glaring, his green eyes furious. "I told you, boy. Don't go in there."

Yuuri opens his mouth to reply, suddenly angry that this old man would try to stop him, but he is startled by a sudden gust of wind with a hint of winter’s chill, even though it is in the middle of summer. The old man and Yuuri blink at each other, before the tension drains away, and the old man sighs. 

"You'd best turn back now and get your dog home, boy."

Yuuri doesn't see any other way. He can come back tomorrow. "Yes, sir. Ah... I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

The old man stares at him hard for a second. "Yuri Plisetsky. Octogenarian, and proud of it. Get out of here, pig."

Yuuri can only blink at the insult, and at the fact that they share a name. Before he can open his mouth, the strange old man is gone, and Yuuri is alone on the path. He glances back at the forest, thinking forlornly of the walk for him and Vicchan, before he scoops up his small dog and begins the long trudge home.

Yet he does not get to return. Yuri Plisetsky does his very best to distract Yuuri every day for the next six months, coming into the library to bother him, inviting him over for tea of all things, and sending him on week-long missions to investigate the fortress or fetch things from other villages. For six long, cold months, Yuuri is little more than an errand boy, and the only times he can get away from Yuri's distractions are too late for a walk in the woods. He takes Vicchan out on the field instead, letting him romp around in the frozen grass and frowning at the dark line of trees on the other side of the expanse.

He suspects Yuri Plisetsky knows something he doesn't, but the old man refuses to say a word to him about it.

One evening in early winter, when the leaves have already fallen and snow has already piled up on the fields, Yuri Plisetsky falls ill. Since he is a crotchety old man with no family of his own save a fluffy white cat, Yuuri takes it upon himself to look after him for a little while.

"Pig, bring me some more of that soup," groans Yuri from the couch, where he is tucked up under a heavy blanket with Puma curled up on his feet. Yuuri smiles and crosses the room to set another bowl of chicken and dumplings in Yuri's hands, before sitting on the settee in front of the fire. His oldest and only friend in the village scoffs at him and slurps at the soup, while Yuuri watches the flames dance.

It's been an odd six months. Nearly a full year since he came to Miratok, and somehow he made a friend in an irascible old man who insults him daily and goes out of his way to make Yuuri traditional pirozhki every Sunday.

Vicchan is curled up at his feet, and Yuuri reaches down to scratch his ears, listening to the fire. After a time, he notices that Yuri has gone silent, and he turns to see that the old man is snoozing under his blanket, his soup finished.

Yuuri huffs a sigh, then goes to collect the empty bowl. As he leans over Yuri, he hears a soft mumble.

"...not into the woods..."

Yuuri's heart skips a beat. He is no idiot; there is something strange about a village that refuses to utilize the woods that surround it. The dark forest on the other side of the field is forbidden, and yet not a single villager will explain why. He gave up asking months ago.

"Why not?" Yuuri asks softly, sinking onto the couch as carefully as he can. Maybe an old man's sleepy rumbles will answer the questions nobody else will humor.

"Dangerous," mutters Yuri. His pale eyelashes flicker. "The King..."

Yuuri leans forward in interest. "The King?"

"Selfish bastard," mumbles Yuri, his face twisting into a sleepy scowl. "Stealin' what's not his..."

Yuuri questions the old man a bit more, but he gets no more interesting details, only faint mumbles that form no words. With a small sigh, Yuuri leaves his old friend to rest and focuses on cleaning the kitchen, before he locks up the little house and heads home. It begins to snow as he steps outside.

As he crunches through the icy mud, Vicchan tucked under one arm, Yuuri's gaze strays to the other end of the village. He has heard a few mentions of the old king of this region in his readings, but the books in the library prefer to avoid discussing him. Only the fortress seems to have any information at all about his rule, with many old, old documents that refer to a time when the country was ruled by a monarchy, not the Council as it is now. Given that the Council has done its best to bury all knowledge of the past, likely in an effort to secure their own strength, Yuuri finds it fascinating that someone even knows about it this far north.

Perhaps, though, it isn't all that odd... considering that the last great King was rumored to rule the North.

Yuuri shakes his head of his thoughts as he reaches his door. He unlocks it and lets Vicchan inside, but as he is about to step in after him, he feels a shiver run across his shoulders, as if someone is staring at him. Slowly he turns, but he only sees the darkened road, the bare trees across the way empty of any suspicious figures. A cold wind blows across his face, as if to tease him, before the strange feeling fades.

Yuuri shakes it off as exhaustion and steps into his house. When he shuts the door, the wind blows dead leaves and snow up against the wood, before they suddenly fall, as if the wind itself is pouting at being shut out.

That night, Yuuri dreams of a lake lit by the moon.

~*~

The next day, when Yuuri is cleaning out one of his closets, he finds a hard box at the very back, made of sleek wood and tiny details on the corners. He pulls it out carefully, a little bewildered by its existence. It wasn't his, to be sure.

When Yuuri moved to Miratok, he took up residence in a small house at the end of the main road, closest to the fields where the farmers worked, conveniently owned by a couple across the street. They rented it to him on the condition that he keep it clean and tidy, and he was lucky enough that it already contained furniture for his use, though sparse in decorations. Occasionally he discovers old belongings like this, but the owners have told him he can use anything he needs. 

Yuuri slides a finger across the dusty box, contemplating the strange find. It must belong to the owners, or the previous renter. He should give it back to them... but perhaps after a peek, though.

He opens the box. Inside lay a pair of exquisite ice skates in black leather, the gleaming steel blades covered by tight fittings. They look very old, but as Yuuri lifts one and examines it in wonder, he realizes that the skates are in excellent shape. After a moment, he sits back and slides his foot into one testingly.

It fits perfectly.

Skating. Yuuri hasn't skated since he was much younger, and certainly not since he moved to Miratok. He used to _love_ skating, but during one hard year where he was very poor, he had to sell his skates to pay for his school books. That was a miserable year, and Yuuri still regrets the decision.

He wonders if there are any lakes around.

~*~

With Yuri Plisetsky stuck in bed, much to the old man's consternation, Yuuri gets a fair bit of work done at the library. Near the end of the day, when the last of the patrons have cleared out, Yuuri pulls out one of the maps of the region and spreads it across the table.

Miratok sits to the west, with the fields to the north. Beyond the fields lies a swarth of darkness: the forest that Yuuri is forbidden from entering. He follows a tiny line to the next village, which is located at one of the turns of a nearby river. That river branches off somewhere to the east, leading to a lake that is several hours away, with its other rivulet disappearing into the woods, just northeast of Miratok. Most of the village's water comes from that creek.

Yuuri taps the map, contemplating. The woods are depicted only as a mass of trees, but the line of the creek continues through the darkness, leading to a tiny pool directly north of Miratok. His breath catches in his throat as he realizes what it means.

There is a lake in the woods. For a moment, Yuuri is overwhelmed with deja vu, and he fights off the feeling with a frown.

Since old man Yuri is bedridden and unable to stop him, nobody will mind if Yuuri slips into the woods to investigate.

~*~

Yuuri sets out in the early morning the next day, armed with a bag full of gear, a few packed meals, and a large container of tea, all strapped to his back just like when he goes camping. He takes Vicchan with him, bundling his tiny dog up in tiny leather booties and a thick sweater for his small body, and sets off on a brisk walk across the fields. To his relief, he sees no one; hence why he chose the early hour.

Together, Yuuri and Vicchan find the trail at the edge of the woods. The trees sway gently in the breeze, and further within, Yuuri can hear branches creaking, the quiet sounds of snow hitting the ground. These woods seem no more terrifying than the fields themselves.

Yuuri glances over his shoulder, but he cannot see the village from here, nor can anyone see him. He fishes out a tiny paper where he copied the map of the forest, then squares his shoulders.

"Come on, Vicchan," he says decisively. Vicchan barks happily at him, and the two walk into the forest.

The woods are quiet, the occasional bird call singing through the trees. The snow crunches under Yuuri's feet in a satisfying way, and he smiles as he walks, watching Vicchan roam about and sniff every tree excitedly. The villagers had built this forest into a terrifying image, with their hints at monsters and darkness, but Yuuri feels only a gentle peace here, something like loneliness even. He likes it here.

The trail winds through the trees, made distinct by large stones that lay half-hidden by the snow, marking where the trail twists. Yuuri follows it easily enough, relieved that the snow isn't so deep that they cannot walk. This far north, snow tends to linger for months, but the weather has been clear for the past two weeks, until a few nights ago.

"Vicchan, that's too big for you," Yuuri says in exasperation, gently tugging Vicchan away from chewing on a rather large stick. He finds a much smaller one and lifts it, grinning when Vicchan wiggles in excitement, then throws it far. Vicchan bounds off, barking excitedly, and Yuuri follows in contentment.

Even if he is bored of his life, dissatisfied with everything else, at least he has Vicchan.

After a little while, Yuuri checks the crude map he drew. He thinks they must be getting close, and he calls Vicchan back to his side, picking him up and tucking him under his arm for a little while to let Vicchan rest. The happy, panting dog curls into his side, while Yuuri walks forward.

He finds the creek half an hour later, the water completely frozen between the twisting rocks. Yuuri glances at the path, which branches off to the west, before he makes his decision and begins to walk alongside the creek instead. He is looking for the lake, after all. To his relief, he finds a much smaller path winding along the side of the creek, marked again by those tall grey rocks, and he follows it eagerly.

He is rewarded when the frozen creak leads him to a large and beautiful lake, completely iced over.

Awed, Yuuri stops by a large tree and gazes across the frozen water. The lake looks fairly flat with a thin layer of snow covering the ice, even in the very middle. It is not so large that he cannot see the other side, but the size is grand in its own way. He wonders how deep it reaches.

"Shall we, Vicchan?" Yuuri asks his dog, who barks at him, happy as can be. "Right you are. Let's go find some wood, boy."

Vicchan squirms out of his arms and takes off, grabbing up the first branch he sees, and Yuuri follows in contentment. He picks up branches and logs along the way, shaking them out and making a sizeable pile in a small nook surrounded by stones, not far from the river's edge. There he leaves his gear, returning time and again with more wood, until he has a pile almost as big as himself.

"Should be enough," Yuuri tells Vicchan, who has not let go of his stick. Yuuri leaves him to it and starts to clear the snow and dead leaves off the ground, then sets himself to building a fire.

Despite the cold and snow, the wood burns cleanly, and soon a roaring fire is warming his hands. Vicchan plops himself down by the fire and croons as the warmth soaks into his damp fur. Yuuri ruffles his ears as he walks back to his pack to pull out the rest of his gear.

Camping is something he enjoys, though the villagers think him insane for it. Yuuri often ends up camping in the nearby fortress whenever he is studying its artifacts, and he thought that a camping trip would suit him and Vicchan very well tonight. Tomorrow is a holiday for the village, and Yuuri will not be in demand by anybody, not even Yuri Plisetsky. No one will miss him.

Soon he has his tent erected, standing tall between two trees which will keep the wind from blowing it away. After he sets everything up inside, Yuuri settles down beside Vicchan to enjoy the fire, pulling out their food supplies to begin cooking.

The soup, leftover from when he cooked for old man Yuri, heats up very nicely. Vicchan eats all of his own food and soon disappears into the tent to nap, something he often does whenever he camps with Yuuri. As the sun climbs higher in the sky, Yuuri wonders if he shouldn't join Vicchan. Just for a little while.

He takes a little while to bank the fire, then crawls inside his tent and curls up beside Vicchan, quickly falling into a well-deserved sleep.

~*~

When Yuuri wakes, the sun has long passed its zenith in the sky.

Vicchan stays curled up in Yuuri's sleeping bag, snoozing contentedly. Yuuri gives him a pat and a kiss, then picks up one of the smaller packs he brought. Then he steps out of the tent and stretches, smiling as the cold air nips his nose.

With a flourish, Yuuri sets down the bag and opens it, carefully drawing out the two beautiful skates he found in his house. The blades gleam under the sunlight, and Yuuri itches to try them out.

But first, to make certain that the lake is safe to skate on. With a smile, Yuuri stands up and looks across the lake.

Only to go still when he sees a figure standing on the ice.

As Yuuri stares, squinting when the sun hits his eyes, the figure vanishes. Yuuri blinks several times, a chill running through him. Surely... he didn't just imagine that? He rubs his eyes and squints more, but there is no sign of another person anywhere on the lake, nor near the edges.

It must be his imagination.

Unsettled, Yuuri picks up his safety gear and steps onto the ice. He waits, listening for any cracks, but hears nothing. Only the gentle sounds of the woods nearby. He takes a deep breath and walks forward.

Half an hour later, Yuuri has his answer. He tucks his auger back into its case and slips it into his bag, then stands up on the ice with a satisfied smile. Almost a foot thick all over, at least close to the edge, and at least half that toward the middle of the lake. The ice is almost completely level, too, which means it will be wonderful to skate on.

Beaming, Yuuri heads back to camp. He checks on Vicchan, who is still snoozing, then adds more logs to the fire, so that it will be roaring by the time he gets back. Then he slides his feet into the skates and carefully laces them up.

When Yuuri steps onto the ice, his breath catches in his throat. It feels _wonderful_ to skate again, and the ice is so smooth, too. The snow makes it a little difficult to skate, but when Yuuri turns around to skate backwards, he gets to admire the arching lines his skates leave in the snow.

Grinning, Yuuri lets himself go.

He skates to whatever song comes up in his mind. The ice is firm and safe beneath his feet, and the sun above lights up the crystals in the snow to iridescence, leaving the ground shining. Yuuri takes his time, drawing artwork in the snow as he skates, from simple figure eights to grand depictions of ancient symbols and letters. He finds himself laughing after he finishes a particularly detailed piece, kicking up a burst of snow to leave his signature, before racing across the ice as fast and as far as he can.

The horizon greets him with dark grey snow clouds, as the sun moves ever downward toward its evening destination. Yuuri raises his hands and lets his head fall back, the distant warmth from the sun seeping into him. He could spend forever out here, skating every thought in his head.

If only the world wished to know his thoughts.

His skating grows melancholy. Yuuri twirls on the ice, more slowly now, taking his time to enjoy the fluid, easy movements. He thinks of his 'home,' that little house in Miratok, and the villagers who still view him as a stranger, even though he has lived there for a year. None of them understand his desire to learn about the past. They think of the past as something better left untouched, but to Yuuri, the past means everything, because of how it shapes their future.

He wonders about the history of this place. If these lands truly belonged to a king, then perhaps there is a castle somewhere that Yuuri can explore. Some remote location filled with more stories and legends, of the king that once ruled the north, before the Council took over and erased the stories from people's minds. If the king's rule had lasted, maybe the Council would not be so powerful. Maybe then Yuuri could have learned more of the world as it should have been.

When the sun begins to touch the trees on the opposite side of the lake, Yuuri turns away to skate back to his tent.

He gets the shock of his life when he skates right into somebody.

"I'm sorry!" Yuuri gasps automatically, reaching up to grip warm arms wrapped in a heavy coat. Hands catch his waist to stop him from falling, and Yuuri looks up in alarm, right into vivid blue eyes. He stops short and stares, blinking rapidly as he tries to understand why such a beautiful person has appeared in front of him from out of nowhere.

"...um."

"Hello," the man says, his brilliant eyes glittering with amusement. He seems to be in no hurry to let Yuuri go. "What a curious creature you are... coming into my forest just to play around."

"I'm sorry," Yuuri says again, reflexively, his face growing warm. "I didn't realize someone owned this forest. I was just taking a walk, and the ice was so pretty that I had to skate, and..."

The man laughs. "You are forgiven, dear one. Few enough bother me here that I forget I have to remind them not to trespass. Yet I find myself interested in how you came to be here. You are not of Miratok."

Yuuri's face heats up more, reminded once again that he is a 'stranger' to the village. He hangs his head a little, only to startle when a warm, gloved hand cups his cheek, tilting his face upwards to look at the man.

"None of that. Show me your face," the man commands. Yuuri shivers, though not from the cold.

"I've lived in the village for a year now. I'm a historian... um... and I thought a walk would be nice. And I wanted to skate. That's all," Yuuri says hesitantly. The man gazes at him for a long moment, before his face breaks into a smile, curiously heart-shaped.

"Well! If that's all, then everything is perfectly fine. Your skating was quite beautiful, after all, so I consider it just payment for your trespassing. Now, if you'll tell me your name...?"

Yuuri sees no reason in lying. "Yuuri."

"Yuuri," the man all but purrs. "You may call me Viktor. As a reward for letting me witness your beautiful skating, I shall invite you to my home and treat you to a sumptuous meal. Will you join me?"

"I..." Yuuri blinks a few times, wondering just how long Viktor was watching him. He is hyper aware of Viktor's hands on his body, of the way Viktor gazes at him, as if he wants to eat him alive. He realizes he is blushing and looks down. "W-well, I need to get back to Vicchan..."

Viktor's smile vanishes. "Vicchan?"

"My dog," Yuuri explains, nodding toward his tent. Viktor follows his gaze curiously, and abruptly, his smile returns, something in his mien softening. Yuuri relaxes at the sight. 

"Oh! How wonderful! Makkachin will love a companion," Viktor says decisively, then steps back on the ice. It is then that Yuuri realizes that Viktor is also wearing skates, and he blinks, eyeing the gold blades curiously. The sight interests him so much that he nearly misses what Viktor says next.

"Will you come with me, dear Yuuri? Vicchan may join us."

"What? Um," Yuuri stammers, flailing a little as Viktor lets him go. He finds his balance quickly and stares blankly up at Viktor, wondering just who this person is. For someone to own the whole woods and not be part of the village... Perhaps he knows some of the history of these lands? He seems nice, if a little strange...

And rather handsome. Yuuri's cheeks go pink when Viktor bows at the waist, smiling up at Yuuri with a charming, daring expression.

"Well, okay... for a little while," Yuuri relents. He skates a wide berth around Viktor and beelines toward his camp, hearing the sounds of blades upon the ice behind him. When Yuuri reaches his camp, he unties the skates and stores them away after cleaning them, blinking to see Viktor sliding skate guards onto his own blades. Shaking his head, Yuuri disappears into his tent to check on Vicchan, who wakes immediately and greets him excitedly.

"C'mon, there's someone I want you to meet," Yuuri murmurs, his heart beating a little faster. He steps out of the tent and turns to greet Viktor, Vicchan in his arms.

"How darling!" Viktor says, sounding just as excited as Vicchan. He steps close and lets Vicchan sniff him, which Vicchan does, scenting Viktor with keen interest. He does not seem unsettled, though, which eases Yuuri's nerves a little, and even licks Viktor's wrist when it gets exposed to the cold air.

"How darling," Viktor says again, and this time, his voice is soft. Yuuri glances up, a little wary, but Viktor only smiles at him. "Vicchan looks a lot like my Makkachin did when she was a puppy. I think they will adore each other."

"Makkachin is...?"

"My poodle," Viktor tells him. Then he looks around Yuuri's tiny campsite and shakes his head. "Well, this will not do. I can't have you freezing out here in the cold when I have a perfectly good bed for you in my home! Come, let us hurry home, Yuuri. It's getting dark!"

"I, um..."

Bewildered, Yuuri can only watch as Viktor expertly packs up his camping gear in record time, smothers the fire with snow, and shoulders the majority of the load, leaving Yuuri to carry Vicchan and his skates before leading him into the woods. Yuuri follows in confusion, glancing back at the smoke rising from his little fire and wondering if he has made a terrible mistake.

Then he sees Viktor's "home," which isn't so much a home as it is a _castle._ Yuuri can only stare in awe as Viktor leads him through a massive pair of iron gates, framed with roses, across a garden of icy bushes and frozen fountains, and through another grand pair of doors, decorated in stained glass and a gold-inlaid coat-of-arms.

Yuuri tries to memorize the details of the coat-of-arms, before Viktor pulls him inside and the doors shut behind them.

"Makkachin! I'm home!"

Warmth and deep barking greets them. Yuuri turns to find a beautiful and tall entryway, its gleaming gold and glass fixtures suitable for royalty, with a large brown poodle descending a circular staircase to the right. The dog runs right past Viktor to Yuuri, dancing excitedly and sniffing him and the little bundle in his arms. Vicchan squirms out of Yuuri's arms and falls to the floor, barking excitedly back, and for a little while, Yuuri can only watch as the dogs greet each other and seem to become friends instantly.

"Excellent," Viktor says, sounding very satisfied, before he takes Yuuri's hand and leads him up the staircase. He waves a hand at the pile of gear at the bottom of the stairs. "See to all that," Viktor calls carelessly, pulling Yuuri into a hallway before he can see whom Viktor is talking to.

The castle is beautifully decorated for winter. Garland and tiny twinkling lights cover the walls and doorways of every hallway and room they pass. Everything is regal and lustrous, made of a kind of wealth that Yuuri has never known, something lasting and powerful. He can no more make sense of his surroundings than he can stop following Viktor -- and so he lets Viktor lead him all the way to a large door at the end of one of the halls. With a flourish, Viktor throws it open.

Inside is a room that should rightly belong to a prince, or even a king. From gold accents to rich blue silks and satins, the room feels something like a dream. Yuuri gapes, and Viktor smiles as he watches him, squeezing Yuuri's hand. Astonishingly, Yuuri's belongings have been carefully stacked and sorted into an open wardrobe, while a fresh set of clothing that Yuuri has never seen before has been laid upon the bed.

"Is this... for me?" Yuuri asked, hushed. He wonders how the servants managed to put his gear here so quickly. 

"All for you," Viktor murmurs, and something in his voice makes Yuuri turn to face him. For a moment, Viktor looks strangely vulnerable, before his smile replaces the odd expression. "I would have you stay here every night, dear Yuuri. You could study your histories, learn more of the world... of me..."

Yuuri starts. "Stay here every night? But... what about my work? My home?"

"They will be just fine without you," Viktor says simply. He lifts Yuuri's hand to his face and presses a slow kiss to his palm, sending a heady shiver right through Yuuri. "I am... alone, here. And you are beautiful and fascinating to me, after I have been alone for so long. Makkachin is fine company, but you... you are _special_ , Yuuri."

Yuuri stares at Viktor's lips, his mouth falling open. He suddenly, achingly, wishes that Viktor would kiss him.

He thinks of the castle, the way the villagers never mention the forest, the small things Viktor has told him. He shivers and wonders what sort of magic powers this place.

"Should I address you as Your Majesty?" Yuuri asks, only half jokingly. Viktor's attention sharpens into something that makes Yuuri wet his lips, loving how Viktor looks at him.

"Clever boy," Viktor murmurs, tilting his head. "How did you know?"

"I've been to the fortress. There was a book... an old book that journaled a courtier's memories of a war, and of a king who ruled here. Before the Council," Yuuri whispers. 

Viktor's eyes flash at the mention of the Council, but he merely smiles and lowers their hands, gesturing to the bed. "Take a little while to freshen up, my dear. I will have dinner prepared."

Then he sweeps away, leaving Yuuri alone. A moment later, Vicchan wanders into the room, followed by Makkachin, who licks Yuuri's hand. Yuuri smiles weakly at her and pats her head, looking back at his new room in bewilderment.

He should be afraid, shouldn't he? If Viktor is the King that Yuri Plisetsky warned him about. But... Yuuri cannot feel fear here. Not with how Viktor welcomed him, and how sweet his dog is, and how kind he seems to be.

A smile touches upon his lips. A mystery, to be sure, and perhaps one linked to the histories he so loves. Yuuri rather looks forward to dinner, now.

~*~

In the days that follow, the villagers forget that Yuuri ever lived in their midst. His memory slowly fades from their minds, erased by magick of olde and deemed unimportant. They accept it easily enough, for the King has been clouding their thoughts for hundreds of years, keeping the balance, so that the village may continue to guard him.

Even old Yuri Plisetsky forgets, after a while. He still makes pirozhki every Sunday, though, but instead of taking it to the cute librarian that no one remembers, he leaves the bag of steaming treats on the edge of the forest just before sunset. When he comes back the next morning, the bag is inevitably gone, the tribute taken by the creatures that serve the King.

Every Sunday, Yuuri gets to eat pirozhki, and he always shares them with Viktor, telling him about the funny old man who would make them for him.

"Did you meet him, once?" Yuuri asks his King, who is lounging on a long sofa and feeding grapes to Yuuri, one by one. Makkachin and Vicchan are snoozing by the fire, tired from their long day romping around the castle. 

Viktor smiles at him indulgently, pressing another grape to Yuuri's lips until he opens his mouth, then quickly retreats when Yuuri teasingly takes a swipe at him with his tongue. "When he was a boy. He came into my woods despite the protections, much as you did, and skated on my ice, much as you did. Yet he was an angry boy and yelled at me for taking his bag of pirozhki, which his grandfather had baked for him, apparently. Such a silly boy," Viktor sighs. Yuuri laughs softly and turns onto his stomach beside Viktor, leaning up to kiss him.

"He never forgot you," Yuuri tells him, sighing as Viktor opens his mouth and deepens the kiss for a long, contented moment. "He warned me about you."

"As he should have," Viktor says, eyes twinkling with mischief. Yuuri rolls his eyes and kisses him again.

He can never thank Yuri Plisetsky in person for leading him here, to the person who completes him. Like Viktor, Yuuri is now bound to this place, but he knows that the spell will wear off soon. A year of his love will be enough to break the magic that has trapped Viktor for centuries, and Yuuri will gladly give him many years more. Then, they will take back their lands that the Council stole so many years ago.

The villagers may not remember Viktor's existence, just as they forgot Yuuri, but they know what must be done.

_Don't go into the forest._

**Author's Note:**

> MANY THANKS to Auri and Meri for betaing! 💙💙💙
> 
> Let me know what you think! (*´♡`*)


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